Wrong
by Samwise Baggins
Summary: Slash! When Pippin tries to figure out what is wrong, the Hobbits are forced to face questions, and pasts, that might be better left buried.
1. The Rightness of Being Wrong

Title: The Rightness of Being Wrong

Author: Sam  
Series: The 'Wrong' Series: 1/ 3

Rating: R. Slash; Sexual Theme; Slight Angst; Incest (cousins)  
Pairings: Merry / Pippin

Summary: Pippin gets even more confused about Right and Wrong  
Spoilers: None

Category: AU: Bookverse

Disclaimer: LotR is a trademark of JRR Tolkien and his surviving children. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story... and most likely not a story Tolkien would have written, had he had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a select group of friends. Thank You.

Distribution: Please ask first?

Setting: LotR: After Bilbo leaves, before Frodo leaves.

Notes: This is the result of a very Impressive story called "The Talk" by "Cleo Calliope". I very much enjoyed that story, and had to write the next bit. Please, read the original, it was wonderfully done! To find that story and many other wonderfully witten ones please ask me for the link to The Library of Moria.

Feedback: Please? I love comments: samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

* * *

"Come on then, Pip, into the water with you."

Merry stood waist deep in the river, gently splashing his hands back and forth, a sunny smile on his pleasant features. He was dressed only in small pants, his chest bare and glistening with droplets of water as he splashed and called out. Damp dark blond curls dripped around his forehead and ears.

Pip nearly moaned. He was so... No! He couldn't think like that, couldn't risk giving away his secret... his horrible, unnatural secret. He shouldn't have even agreed to go swimming, now he knew himself, should have suggested something else like raiding Farmer Maggot's crops or climbing in the orchard. Or, at least, he could have suggested they stay in their clothes. That'd have been easy enough. All he needed to do was push Merry in fully dressed, and the other Hobbit might not have stripped at all... especially not while Pip was watching, supposed to be stripping himself.

Now, he was truly caught. Merry wanted him to come into the water for a swimming lesson, and expected him to do so in near nothing, like a hundred times before. But, this wasn't like a hundred times before. Now, Pippin knew how wrong he was, and had to hide it from Merry, or he would lose his dearest friend forever. That, he couldn't bear.

Taking a deep, slow breath, hands trembling as he unfastened his trousers and slid them down and off, Pip looked anywhere but at Merry. He could just say he changed his mind and wasn't feeling well. Then Merry could find someone else to play with. Pain seared Pip at the thought of Merry spending his time with anyone else. No, he'd stay... and he'd keep his secret so he could keep what little of Merry he had already.

Unfortunately, when one was distracted, it was a bad idea to try to tackle a lesson one has had problems mastering in the past.

As Pip waded into the water, feeling it's coolness lap and flow around him, he lifted his eyes to meet Merry's. The other Hobbit smiled sunnily back and nodded encouragement. Pip drew breath as he felt a small flutter, a breathlessness, shoot through his chest with that smile. Then he tripped.

It was so sudden neither Hobbit expected it. One moment, Pip was following Merry's smile as the older Hobbit laughed, the next, something snagged on Pip's toes and he was falling into the dark waters of the Brandywine River. He didn't even hear Merry's gasp as the waters closed over his curly head.

His foot was caught, and he started to panic.

As Pippin went under, Merry screamed. Sure, Pip played practical jokes like that all the time, but there had been something of surprise and horror in his cousin's eyes when he went under. That look convinced Merry that this was not a joke. Pippin had gone under by accident, right into the rushing waters of the Brandywine's swift current. Merry waded forward, watching the water intently for Pip to reemerge.

Pip, for his part, struggled to get his foot free, feeling the undertow dragging at him. He'd barely had time to gasp air as he went down, and now the insufficient supply was running low. He had to get up to the surface. Thrashing at the water, hoping Merry could find him, Pippin forced himself lower to reach his foot. He felt the edges of his world going fuzzy, and his lungs ached. Then, his foot was free, and the undertow was dragging him along.

Somehow, the young Hobbit got his head briefly above the water, gasping a lungful of much needed air before he was swept down once more. Tumbled and driven about by the rough waters, Pippin felt himself scraped against the jagged rocks on the riverbed. A sharp fire sliced through his belly and pelvis, and he gasped, taking in water. He started to black out with pain and lack of air.

The feeling of someone grabbing onto his curls startled him into wakefulness. Pip was dragged quickly to the surface, his head forced up and held there. A strong arm went around his waist, pulling him close to a muscular Hobbit body. He coughed, trying to breathe and clear his lungs all at once. He was weak, unable to hold onto his rescuer, as he was drug towards the shore.

"Oy! Pip! Come now, lad, I've got you." Merry's voice washed over him, strong and sure, causing Pippin to shudder in relief. He continued coughing as Merry tugged him onto the river bank, amazingly barely a couple of meters from where they'd dropped their clothes at the beginning of this adventure.

Pippin lay on the grass, his coughing subsiding as Merry stroked and patted his back, making encouraging noises all the while. When he could finally gather enough strength, Pip flopped over, onto his back, and let out a choking sob. He wanted to hug Merry and kiss him and thank him for rescuing him all together. He moved to touch his friend, tell him of his joy in just being alive, when Merry's gasp made him pull back.

"Peregrin Took! You're bleeding!"

Pip tried to sit up and see, but he winced, gasping at the fire along his pelvis, and fell back to the grass, shaking. "I got cut on the bottom..."

"I can see that, you fool! Stay still, now, and I'll tend you." Merry got up, Pip's eyes following him, and delved into the picnic basket they'd brought for elevensies. He came up with several cloth napkins and some kite string, though why he'd packed kite string was anyone's guess. The Brandybuck heir then scooted close to Pip's side, reaching for his younger cousin's short pants.

"Merry!" Pip was stunned. "What are you doing!"

Merry grunted and shook his dripping curls. "You're cut below the waistband, Pippin. I'm going to bandage you up. Now lie still, like a good Hobbit, and let me tend you." He pulled the waistband low, barely concealing Pip's member, in order to work on the nasty gash.

Flushed, Pip closed his eyes in embarrassment. Merry's admonition reminded him of the words his father had used not two weeks previous. 'Unnatural...' he'd said. 'Impossible... Wrong...' Pip wanted to sink down in the ground and hide, or tell Merry not to touch him. Merry didn't deserve such an... unnatural friend. But, Pippin couldn't give up Merry, no matter how wrong he was to want his Brandybuck cousin. He couldn't lose his best friend in the entire Shire... the entire world.

"Ah, Pip... look at that... I'll need to be cleaning that before I can bandage you. Hold still a bit, cousin."

With those words, Pip's eyes opened, and he watched Merry grab a mug from the basket and head for the riverside. Filling it quickly with the cold liquid, Merry was back at Pip's side before the younger Hobbit could think to cover himself and roll away. Then, it was too late, for Merry'd start asking why Pip didn't want to be helped. And that was something Pip couldn't tell him.

Merry gently poured a bit of water over the gash that ran across the place Pip's hips met his body. He used one of the napkins to try to clear away grit and stone, but grunted as Pip wiggled and his waistband slipped up into the way again. "Pip! Stay still! You've just messed me up."

"I can't help it, Merry, that hurts!" Pip wiggled again, reaching to pull the band away from the gash, but to keep it covering his lower parts.

"Well, you'll have to help it, now. I'm not bringing you home bloody and bruised without at least trying to mend things. They'd throw me out on my ears, Pip! Then who'd help me plan my next Birthday?" Merry moved Pip's waistband down once more and started trying to wash the injury again.

Pip wiggled. The cloth slipped up. Merry let out a grunt of annoyance and worry. "Pip!"

Tears coming to his eyes, Pippin looked pitifully at Merry. "I can't help it, Merry. I really can't! It hurts so I can't stay still when you do that. Those stones are deep." He blinked, ashamed that he was crying, but more ashamed that Merry should see him.

With a sigh, Merry reached over and rubbed his thumbs over Pip's cheeks, wiping the tears away. "Ah, no, Pip. I'm sorry. It's my fault you're hurt. I knew you've not been well recently. Your Da told me so, but I thought it was just cabin fever. I thought with all the rain, you were aching for a bit of a romp. I didn't know you'd gone sick enough to be tripping about like a Gamgee."

Pip couldn't help it. He giggled, gasping as Merry again stroked his cheek. He lifted his green eyes to meet Merry's gray ones. "Merry?" But he didn't finish the question, as Merry bent over and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"Rest now, Pip. Let me take care of you." Then, Merry was pulling away the waistband again, and Pip bit his bottom lip, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop from wiggling all over again. But this time, those normally shining brown eyes opened wide in confusion, and a bit of fear, as he felt Merry draw the short pants down from his waist, and keep going. He was unclothing Pip!

Pip gasped and wiggled, reaching for his pants, but was stopped by Merry's hand. "Oh, Pip, don't be so daft. It's nothing I haven't see a hundred times before. These things keep getting in the way, so I've found a solution." And with that, Pippin's pants were lying in a wet heap to the side and Merry was once more reaching for water mug and napkin.

This time, however, Pip barely noticed the pain. He was more aware of the fact that the warm sun was beating down over his body... over parts that didn't often feel the sun. He felt the touch of Merry's capable hands, stroking and washing at his body, trying to cleanse the deeply dirt-ingrained gash. And, he was starting to lose himself in the fact that it was Merry touching him... nobody around but Merry.

Pip closed his eyes, hands bunching into fists, and tried to concentrate on the bird song and river sounds. He couldn't think about what Merry's touch was like. He couldn't let himself enjoy that soft worry in Merry's eyes, or reach out to stroke Merry's cheek the way he longed to do. He was wrong... and Merry would know it if Pip even opened his eyes.

Merry looked up briefly, noticing how Pip went from pale to flushed to pale again. He frowned, looking back at his work, wondering if Pip was going to pass out. The pain had to be great for Pip to be reacting so oddly. He seemed not to want Merry to touch him... had seemed to withdraw into himself these past few weeks, though Merry couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong for Pip to react that way.

Then, after long, painful minutes, the wound was clean, though bleeding freely. Merry gave it a last gentle swipe with a clean cloth then pressed another one over the gash. Reaching down and behind Pip, he started circling the kite string around his friend's waist. He intent was to fold half the napkin over it, like a sheet out to dry, then to tie another one or two loops around his cousin, to ensure the makeshift bandage stayed in place until they got home to Brandyhall.

As he leaned down, needing to almost press his face into Pip's good hip to reach around him, Merry's breath caressed over the younger Hobbit's skin. He stilled as he became aware of an unusual reaction in his cousin. Looking down, Merry blinked, watching as Pip became hard. He quickly shot a look up to Pip's face, but the other Hobbit merely kept his eyes closed tight, along with his fists, his face burning red.

Merry realized that Pip must be embarrassed by his body's reaction to Merry's hands and breath. He sat back wondering how to defuse the situation before Pip started avoiding him in his embarrassment. So, he gently chuckled. "Sorry 'bout that, Pip. I'm almost done then you can relieve yourself. I forgot what skin and breath do to a young Hobbit."

Pip's body jerked at the words, but didn't relax; Merry went back to his bandaging, keeping his eyes averted from Pip's shaft as much as was possible. Finally, he nodded and patted Pip's bandage gently. "Right as rain. Go ahead Pip. I'll just lay out the elevensies until your done."

Merry moved to stand, but noticed Pip's head shake a negative reply. He frowned and knelt down again. "Pip, what's the matter? I told you how to do that... it happens all the time. Go ahead..."

Pip shook his head again, face flaming hotter. He didn't dare open his eyes or move or even almost breath. He knew Merry had seen the erection, but maybe if he ignored it, Merry'd give up. His friend was being nice, saying it was normal, but Pip knew better. It was not just skin and breath that did that to him... it was Merry, himself. And it was horribly, horribly wrong. Pip didn't dare move, or he might give away his secret even worse than he'd already done. And them Merry would hate him.

Merry reached over a gentle hand.

He gave Pip a reassuring grin, then started. It was odd feeling Pip's, rather than his own. They were so alike, yet so different. Merry hadn't intended to watch as he helped his friend, but somehow he couldn't help it. He wanted to see what Pip's reactions were.

Pippin moaned low, desperately. He felt like he was drifting on a sea of sensation. All thought of his injury and near drowning were overwhelmed by the touch of Merry. He found himself watching Merry's face as he worked. The very feel of Merry's hand made Pip's head spin, and he wanted nothing more than to draw his cousin down in a lingering kiss and to tell him that he loved him. He groaned again.

With a slight smile forming, though Merry was unaware of it, the blond Hobbit continued. He suddenly wanted to feel his friend's finish. He looked up to Pip's face, and drew in his breath at what he thought he saw in that soft green gaze.

As Merry's eyes met Pip's, the young Took felt himself tense. He moaned. He broke the silence with a breathy, "Oh... oh... oh! Merry... I'm going to..." And then he was. Slowly, eyes still locked together, Merry released his friend, and sat back on his heels.

Long moments passed and time seemed to stand still, hanging between them like a soft breath. Merry blinked, then got to his feet without a word. Pip turned his head to watch the other Hobbit as Merry refilled the mug with cold river water, washed his hands, and returned. Then, using the last napkin, he proceeded to gently wash Pip's body, careful to get any trace of their last few minutes off of Pippin's skin and bandage.

Pip couldn't close his eyes through the entire procedure. He merely watched, silently, as Merry first cleaned him, the carefully dressed him in his dry clothes, leaving the bundle of wet short pants aside for bringing back to the Hall. Then, he nodded, and quietly spoke. "Can you get up, Pip, or do I carry you?"

It was such a normal question, and Merry was acting as if nothing wrong had happened between them, nothing unnatural about their behavior. Pip slowly sat up, drawing in a shaky breath, and finally looking away, down, anywhere but at Merry. "I can walk." His voice sounded strange to his own ears.

  
Merry nodded, getting to his feet and cleaning up the supplies they'd used, bundling Pip's short pants around the bloody and... otherwise coated... napkins. "Well, up with you then, Peregrin Took." And he was offering a hand to Pip, just like any other time the Hobbit had gotten hurt and Merry had helped. Just like there was nothing different.

Pip used the hand as leverage to rise, then silently walked to the basket and their food. He sat, eating, in quiet thought, trying to puzzle out his own thoughts and feelings, his own reactions. He tried to think through what had just happened with Merry, and the way Merry was acting about it. And, Pip tried to imagine how his father would react or would've reacted. His head spun as he sat there thinking.

How could being so wrong have felt so right?

Continued in Chapter Two: How Can Wrong Become Right?


	2. How Can Wrong Become Right?

Title: How Can Wrong Become Right?

Series: The 'Wrong' Series: 2/ 3

Rating: NC-17. Nonconsensual Sexual Situation and some Violence; Angst; Incest: Cousins  
Pairings: Merry & Pippin; Sackville-Baggins and Pip; Suggested Sackville-Baggins and Frodo; Suggested Frodo & Sam

Summary: Somehow being wrong can become right, when faced with something worse

Setting: LotR: After Bilbo leaves, before Frodo leaves.

Feedback: Please? I love comments: samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

* * *

"Oy! Where's Pip, then?"

Merry's voice was soft, slurred, and bleary with drink and the long day. He was sprawled out on a comfortable chair, an almost empty mug of ale dangling from one hand. There was an air of lazy contentment about the young Hobbit.

The party had been glorious: lots of ale, plenty of company, and more food than had been eaten. In fact, this party almost eclipsed Frodo's coming-of-age birthday, without the disappearance of one of the guests of honor. Yes, the coming-of-age of Meriadoc Brandybuck would be talked about for years to come, and that was just how Merry liked it.

The party had been thrown by Frodo, Merry's cousin up in Hobbiton, at Bag End. With the amount of room and money available to Frodo, the party had gone on well into the night. In fact, the last of the guests had just stumbled down the lane. Well, all the guests except the three scheduled to sleep over at Bag End: Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck, himself.

Frodo and Sam were also sprawled out on chairs, amidst the debris of the party, but Pippin, or Peregrin in his more formal address, was nowhere to be seen. That usually meant mischief, which Merry always threw himself whole-heartedly into. But Pip hadn't mentioned any plans, and he had been gone for a good fifteen minutes, thus, Merry's lazy query concerning his best friend's whereabouts.

Frodo lifted his head from where it lay on the back of his favorite chair. He blinked his large, almost fathomless blue eyes several times, then shook his head as if to clear it. Looking around, a frown marred Frodo's almost too pretty features. "Don't know, Merry... was here just a moment ago."

"Went for a blanket to fight the chill," was the addition of Samwise.

The others turned to their friend and equal grins split their faces. It was rather impossible not to grin at the sight poor Mister Gamgee made. He was sprawled like the other two, empty ale mug at his feet and a plate of mere crumbs on the little table at his elbow. But what made him humorous was that the sturdy, heavy set Hobbit had a woman's bonnet perched on his blond curls and a lacey shawl draped over his legs. He resembled nothing more than an old granny by the fire, and the sight was one that inspired giggles and snorts.

If asked, Sam would not have been able to recall just when he'd wound up dressed in such fashion. Actually, it hadn't been that long ago. The good Hobbit had briefly drifted off just before Pippin had left for more blankets, and was totally unaware of their youngest companion draping the clothing over him. Of course, the bonnet and shawl belonged to Frodo's hated cousin, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, so they wouldn't be permitted to play with the bits of lace and fluff for long. But while they had the chance, Pippin had utilized it... and, as a result, poor, unsuspecting Sam couldn't figure out just what had set his friends to laughing. Being a good-natured sort of Hobbit, he joined in, though, much to the glee of Merry and Frodo.

"Ah... ah... ah..." Merry tried to catch his breath from laughing so hard. "Oh, Pip would love this."

Frodo nodded then broke into more giggles as Sam blinked, grinning, and asked, "What are we laughing at?"

Merry shook his head. "I'm going to get Pip... Sam, don't you move a whisker... this is just too funny." And with that, he heaved himself from his seat and stumbled merrily from the room.

With a laugh, Frodo rose to join Merry in the hunt. "If he wants a blanket, he'll be in one of the bedrooms. I'll help."

The two cousins headed down the hallway, talking about the party and giggling over the amusing way Sam was dolled up. Merry called out for Pip, when he remembered to, in a sing-song fashion "Pippin, Oy, Pippin Took, where be you, you scamp?"

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Where Peregrin Took was at that moment was Hell.

He'd finished draping Sam with the lacey frills of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins then declared he wanted a blanket. Setting down his ale mug on the edge of the table, unawares that it had tumbled to the carpet and spilt the dregs, the youngest of the quartet wandered towards the bedchambers of Frodo's home. He wanted something to complete Sam's get up. A nice frilly pink blanket would be perfect. Naturally, Pip was too inebriated to consider that Frodo would hardly keep pink frilly blankets. He just assumed, naturally, that whatever he needed would be had from the depths of this very large, very well furnished Hobbit Hole.

After the third room, Pip's mind wandered over what other pranks he might pull this night. There'd be an entire night at his cousin's house, celebrating his other cousin's coming-of-age, and Peregrin did not intend to waste a moment of it in something as mundane and boring as sleep. He wanted to have fun. After all, one only came of age once in a lifetime. This coming-of-age had to be the best coming-of-age ever seen in the Shire. Pip wanted Merry's day to be remembered forever.

Merry deserved it.

His cousin was not only his relative he was his best friend. If something went wrong, Merry was there to fix things. If something went right, Merry was there to cheer and lift him up high. If things were lazy and relaxed, Merry was there to just lie on the grass and talk with. Through everything in Pip's life, Merry had been there. He'd come up with brilliant pranks and even more brilliant excuses. He'd explained things that no one else had been able to make clear. He'd taught him about growing up in ways even his father hadn't managed.

Pippin owed everything to Merry. After all, Pip was too curious for his own good. He was too slow for everyone else's good. And he was too young and confused for his family's good. But Merry didn't mind. In fact, there was only one thing about Pip that he thought Merry would mind... and he hadn't told Merry about _that_.

He couldn't tell Merry about _that_. It would make Merry look at him in horror and disgust. He'd leave and never come round anymore. If Pip told, Merry wouldn't be his friend anymore. And Pippin couldn't lose Merry. If he lost Merry, he'd have no reason to live.

With a sigh, Pip tried to chase the thoughts away. He had no clue when he'd figured out he was in love with his cousin. Maybe he'd always loved him. He certainly had for too long to remember the beginning.

So then when had he realized? When Merry gave him a birthday gift of a gray patterned scarf today? Maybe when Merry had helped him filch that fire work from Gandalf the Gray on Frodo's coming-of-age? Or was it when Merry had rescued Pip from drowning, then helped the embarrassed, confused younger Hobbit by relieving the erection he'd gotten when Merry had dressed his wounds? Or could it have been when his father had told him that it was unnatural and impossible for Pip to love a male Hobbit? And had looked at him with such horror that Pip swore he'd never tell Merry... never risk having his best friend look at him in that same way.

Standing outside the fourth bedroom, Pip shook his head, dark curls bouncing. It was getting harder and harder to pretend that everything was right, normal. This feeling kept growing, and he just wanted to shout it out and tell Merry about it. But he couldn't. And it was eating him up inside. And there came those stupid, stupid tears again!

Pip let out a frustrated blast of air and wiped harshly at his teary eyes. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't! His father had caught him crying just last week over this problem. Thankfully, he'd believed Pip when the young Hobbit had claimed that he had a headache. The only son of the Took family had been bundled up into bed and nursed back to health by his older sisters right quick. That had been an annoying day for Pip, as all he'd wanted to do was cry about not being able to love Merry.

Naturally, when one was morose and pondering one's problems, one's mind was not at it's sharpest concerning outside influences. Thus, Pip was taken completely by surprise when he opened the fourth door and was yanked into the room. Blinking in the dark chamber, he couldn't figure out what was going on... had Merry gotten up a prank and wanted Pip along? 

Pip smiled, "Oy, Merry, what a fright you gave me!"

The hard pressure of a hand clamping over his mouth alerted Pip that this wasn't his cousin, bent on a lark. Besides, Merry didn't wear perfume... and this person seemed to be drenched in the cloying scent of hyacinths. Only one Hobbit wore that much of such an annoying scent... Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.  
  
A male's voice out of the darkness gave away that the woman was accompanied by her husband, Otho. "It's the Took boy, dear."

"Perfect. I would have preferred that disgraceful Frodo, but this will do fine. It's been a long time since there's been a young one in the house. I miss that... innocence."

Lobelia's voice sent a chill up Pippin's spine. It was something about the way she said _innocence_; somehow, Pip found himself wishing he hadn't gone off to look for that stupid blanket after all. He wriggled, trying to get free, not wanting to see just why Lobelia had missed _innocence_.

"Hurry up, then, Otho. He's giving me a fight. Slippery bugger, this one."

Then, a light was struck, and Otho lit several candles by the bed.

Pippin blinked in the sudden brightness, and tried to adjust his eyes. He had fallen quiet in Lobelia's grasp while blinking, making it unfortunately all too easy for the Hobbit woman to start pushing and dragging him towards the bed. When he was adjusted to the illumination, Pip wished he hadn't been. Otho was stripped nude and held some type of strap in his hands, a lascivious grin spread over his fat face.

Lobelia thrust Pippin onto the bed, and before the Hobbit could right himself and crawl to escape, Otho had the strap around his neck. "I don't think so, lad. You'll stay right here and be good to us, you will. If you know what's good for you, that is."

A snort from the older Hobbit's wife gave her opinion of the matter. "Tooks ain't big on sense, Otho... especially this youngest one. But you give him a yank, and he'll understand."

Otho nodded and tightened the makeshift noose on Pip's neck. Pip gasped, and raised his hands to claw at the leather biting into his tender throat, cutting into his air supply. Otho loosened it just a bit. "You understand real well, don't you, lad? Good, now. Just you lie still, no sounds out of you now, and we'll enjoy ourselves."

Pip highly doubted that he'd enjoy himself one little bit, but he lay quiet and still. He didn't want to aggravate them and maybe get choked to death in the bargain. He had no clue what it was they wanted from him, but he'd try to cooperate until one of the others thought to look for him. Sam would, wouldn't he? To get even with the lacey cap and shawl at least, right? Pip hoped so... oh, Elbereth, he hoped so.

Before Pip could think what might happen next, Otho yanked him to a sitting position and tied the strap to the head of the bed. Then, he lay the young Took down, gently. That gentleness was almost obscene when one thought about what the couple had planned. The older Hobbits tied a leather strap to each of Pip's wrists and yanked them apart, hard, tying them off to the bedposts.

Pip's eyes widened in horror. Why were they tying him to the bed? His answer came when the other Hobbits pulled his legs apart and fastened leather straps to his ankles. They wouldn't... they couldn't!

But they were. Lobelia took out a nasty looking eating knife, slightly rusty and a bit twisted. It looked as if it had been jammed into a windowsill, to keep it closed, for a long time. She leaned over, grinning, the cloying scent of her perfume making Pip's stomach turn. "Hey, now, little Took. We're going to play a game. You like games. You'll absolutely adore this one. You're going to do whatever we say, and if you do, we'll have fun. Sound like a fair game, don't it?"

With those words, she tore through Pip's clothing, piece by piece. As they fell away, and she pulled the pieces off and tossed them to the floor, Lobelia's eyes lit up brighter and brighter. "Oh... a well formed little Hobbit, aren't you? I am so going to enjoy this!"

Otho yanked the leather strap on Pip's left ankle hard, sliding it in a burning sensation up to his knee. Then, grinning wide, Otho tied the strap to the one on Pip's wrist. Tottering around the bed, he repeated this treatment with Pip's right leg and wrist.

Unclothed, trussed up in a revealing, uncomfortable position, and at the mercy of Frodo's hated cousins, Pip felt blackness start to creep around the edges of his vision. He felt sick, and wanted to vomit, but was afraid of what might happen if he did. Tied on his back like this, he'd most likely choke; so he fought the sensation. Tears welled up in his eyes, and Pip wished Merry would come save him right then.

Then he wished Merry wouldn't come save him. He didn't want Merry to see him like this. Helpless and exposed... a plaything for the Sackville-Bagginses. It would be too horrible. It would be worse than if Merry found out how unnatural Pip was. Okay... maybe not _that_ bad, but still pretty bad.

Lobelia climbed onto the bed, licking her lips, sliding herself forward on hands and knees to end over top of Pippin. Pip closed his eyes, but a sharp slap to his cheek made his eyes fly open. "You will watch and learn. You'll pleasure us tonight... and if you ever tell anyone, they'll know what a sick, twisted, unnatural Hobbit you are for even thinking up such a thing."

Nodding, Otho beamed. "She's right you know. After all, we're highly respected members of the Shire. You, on the other hand, are a boy with a wild streak who spends far too much time causing trouble with his cousin. You're a Took, he's a Brandybuck, and you would be scoffed at for coming up with such petty lies about us. So, enjoy, and we may just come around again on another lonely night to play."

Pip choked on a sob.

Lobelia reached between his legs. He shuddered at the contact, feeling sick all over again. She frowned, then shot a glare at her husband.

"He's not even a bit ready, Otho. I think he doesn't like girls." She was pouting, the cruel barb meant only as a joke.

Pip took it as serious. _Elbereth! How'd she figure it out? Was that supposed to feel good?_ He wanted to panic. Lobelia had figured out his horrible secret, and she'd tell everyone. And Merry would find out...

Otho pushed Lobelia away from Pip and climbed onto the bed. He reached down a rough hand and tugged. Pip whimpered in pain. With a glare, Otho again tugged and twisted, painfully. "You'll get hard, lad, see if you don't. You'll get hard or I'll choke you!"

Pip closed his eyes, not caring if he was slapped again. He couldn't stand to see what was happening. Bad enough it was happening at all. Mentally, he cried out, 'Merry! Oh, Merry, I need you! Help me!"

He felt Otho grind him and blacked out at the pain.

More pain brought the young Hobbit back to consciousness, and he had to fight not to vomit. Otho was still grinding, and Lobelia was rubbing her hands over her own body in a grotesque display. Pippin couldn't even figure out what was exciting the two Hobbits so much. All he felt was pain and horror.

It felt like hours passed, hours of torment, when Lobelia looked frustrated. "That's not working you old coot. I'm ready now, and I mean to have him now. Give over and let me have a go." She then crawled back onto the bed as Otho drew his hand back.

The relief from pain brought tears to Pippin's eyes again, and he almost wanted to thank Lobelia for her interference. Almost. But Pip didn't, because he had no clue what horrible thing Lobelia meant to do with him now, and it could easily be worse than Otho's grinding.

It wasn't as bad, at least, from a physical point. She ran her hand over his abdomen and made a mewling noise in her throat. Bringing herself over the young Hobbit, Lobelia thrust one breast into his face. Pip closed his eyes, and felt her jam her flesh at him again. "Suck on it, you moron!"

Pip's eyes shot open and he looked up at her in confusion. He shook his head, not understanding why she wanted him to nurse like an infant. His delay caused pain as Otho twisted the strap.

"You'll do as you're told, you Took, and quick about it. Lobelia says suck, you suck, now!"

He opened his mouth, letting the woman thrust into it. He nearly choked as she tried to cram more in. Gasping, trying to breathe through a nose almost covered by the overflow, Pip gave a hesitant suck then gagged. The woman was thrusting her chest into his face, choking him.

"Yes... good boy... that's the way." Then Lobelia ran her hand over his tummy again, to end between his legs. He winced as she came in contact with his abused member, though the pain was nearly gone now. Her hands were clinging and felt too soft. It didn't feel right. Not like the time Merry had touched him.

Closing his eyes, Pip let himself drift to a happier time. It had been confusing, and scary, but it had been Merry. Merry would never hurt him. It had been a day that had ended in confused pleasure, never to be repeated, thus cherished all the more. Smiling slightly, Pip tried to regain the feeling of peace he'd had that afternoon.

Unfortunately, Otho and Lobelia wouldn't even let him daydream. A sharp tug on his neck leather brought him back to awareness, choking against leather and suffocating flesh. Lobelia backed up and moved her other breast over his mouth. She was caressing him now, trying to make him hard.

It wasn't working, and both Sackville-Bagginses were getting annoyed.

"We'll have to give him a good blow, Lobelia my love. Worked with Frodo, you know. It works with any young male." Otho's voice held a bit of an anticipatory whine. He wanted to be the one to do it to Pippin.

Pip felt sick as the realization that they'd probably done this to Frodo sank in. Poor Cousin Frodo, to have been through this. Or... had he enjoyed it? Father had never said that this was part of sex... but it could be, couldn't it? If it was, Pippin didn't want anything more to do with sex, ever! This felt wrong... more wrong than Pippin could ever be in his love for Merry.

Lobelia wrapped her hand around him and held him up. He tried to see, but then looked away once more. She was desperately trying to unite them, and it certainly wasn't working. She got mad and tugged roughly, and Pip cried out in pain. Then she tightened his neck strap. "We said no noise, Took!"

Eyes over flowing with tears, Pip gulped and gasped for air. His head was spinning, and he had to fight the nausea again. He couldn't let them know how sick he was feeling. They'd get angrier... and might even kill him! He tried to blink away the tears, but it only served to send them streaming down his face.

"Oy, Pippin! Where are you! Come on out, Pip!"

It was the sweetest sound Pip had ever heard: the call of Merry's voice. He forgot about not wanting to be seen in such a way; he wanted to be saved. Sounds of doors opening and closing marked just how close the searching Hobbit was coming.

Otho and Lobelia exchanged panicked glares then scrambled to gather their clothes. They didn't even bother dressing, but crawled out the window. They were away a full minute before the door opened, causing the candles to flicker and flare and settle once more.

"Pippin?" Frodo glanced into the room then stopped still as a statue. All color drained from his face, and his eyes grew huge in horror. Then Frodo Baggins passed out, the sound of his limp body hitting the ground bringing Merry running.

"Frodo? Hey, Frodo Baggins! What's happened?" Merry leaned over his cousin, trying to figure out what had caused the older Hobbit to faint. He looked into the room and the color fled his face.

Pip was afraid Merry would pass out, too. Then he'd be stuck here for who knew how long. And he wouldn't be able to help Frodo or Merry, either. So, Pippin Took whimpered.

Merry's color came back with a vengeance and then some. He was flushed, now, anger in his eyes. Striding quickly into the room, he spoke not a word as he headed directly for Pip on the bed. Merry started untying the neck strap with shaking hands.

Cringing, whimpering in new fear, Pip couldn't figure out why Merry was so angry. Was it that Pip had been... well... _involved_? Did he think his young cousin had abused Frodo's hospitality? _Oh, please, Merry. Say something. Anything! Even if you yell at me... Just not silence. I can't bear it. What have I done?_

Then, the strap was loose, and Merry was working on his knees and wrists. He still hadn't said anything as he worked, just methodically untying and unstrapping Pippin's limbs, still shaking in anger, eyes blazing.

Frodo woke up with a groan. He looked up, blinking, thinking what he'd seen had been a horrible nightmare. But... no... there was Peregrin Took, harnessed and nude. It was a flashback to something he'd never wanted to live through again. Frodo wasn't even aware that he started keening.

Merry whirled around at the unearthly sound coming from his cousin. "Frodo?" He left Pip then and hurried to Frodo's side. Kneeling, Merry tried to draw him into a comforting hug, but Frodo lashed out eyes wide in fear, keen intensifying.

"What in the world? Frodo, it's me, Merry! What's gotten into you!" Merry grabbed Frodo's wrists, trying to hold him still.

Frodo went wild at the restraint, screaming now, and fighting hard. He kicked, clawed, tried to bite, anything to get free. And still his screams filled the whole of Bag End.

Hobbits were naturally quiet beings, but there were times that even a Hobbit made a racket. And when Sam barreled down the hall to save Frodo from whatever had caused that awful screaming, well, he made enough racket to draw wights out of the barrows. Skidding to a halt, nearly colliding with Merry, Sam knelt and pushed the Brandybuck away with a glare.

"What have you done to Mister Frodo?" He sounded angry, upset that anyone would think to harm his master.

Merry shook his head, backing off, ending next to the bed and Pippin. "I've done nothing, Samwise Gamgee! He was passed out when I came in, and when he woke, he started fighting and screaming!" Upset, confused, Merry whirled around, his back to Sam and Frodo, and finished untying Pippin. "I wouldn't hurt Frodo, and you know it Sam Gamgee!"

Sam tried to draw Frodo into his strong arms, but was met with the same sort of resistance Merry had found. Frowning, Sam took only a second or two to think then slapped Frodo sharply across the face. The screams stopped, and the keening resumed as Frodo started rocking, tears streaming down his face. Sam wrapped his arms around the now unprotesting Frodo.

"Well, something's got him worked up, Mister Merry!" Sam looked up, then gasped at the sight of Pip slowly drawing the strap from around his neck. "Elbereth! What happened to you, Mister Pippin?"

Pip shook his head, then covered his face and joined in Frodo's tears. His entire body shook in the aftermath of the horror he'd endured. He couldn't talk just yet, but he understood Frodo completely.

With a soft curse, Merry drew Pippin into his arms and rocked him gently. He cradled the dark head against his strong shoulder and made soothing, nonsensical noises to his cousin. The position was hard on his back, so he simply crawled onto the bed, and pulled Pippin firmly into his lap, cuddling and rocking. "Oy, Peregrin... my Peregrin. Everything's right now. Your Merry's here, and won't leave again. Come on, Peregrin Took, you look at me..."

Pip blinked, shaking, and looked up as instructed. What he saw brought one last shudder over his slight form, then a strange calmness filled him. Merry's eyes were worried and loving. He wasn't angry at all! With a gasp, Pip slipped his arms around Merry's neck and burrowed against him, crying into his shirt. Merry wrapped his arms around him more securely.

Sam still hadn't managed to break Frodo out of his fit. The older Hobbit kept right on keening, no matter what Sam said or tried. He was getting scared, now, and turned to Merry for help. "I can't calm him, Mister Merry." Sam's voice was desperate, upset. "He won't calm down..." 

Pip lifted his face enough to say, "It was them... they did it to him, too..."

Merry gently lifted Pip's chin with one strong hand. "Who did this to Frodo, Pip?"

"The Sa... Sa... Sackville... Bagginses, Merry. They did it. They said they'd done it to Frodo, too." Then Pip buried his face once more into Merry's shoulder and shuddered. Merry's arms tightened supportively.

Sam grew pale then flushed, as Merry had before him. "What? They trussed Mister Pippin... and Mister Frodo up like a goose? But why?"

Shaking his head softly, Merry looked gently down at Sam. "There are some, Samwise, who enjoy hurting others. It makes them feel good."

Sam shook his head, not comprehending how hurting someone could feel good. "If you say so, Mister Merry. But it don't make no sense, if you know what I mean. Hurting people's never been something I could fathom. I'm taking Mister Frodo to his own room. He needs rest." Then, the sturdy Hobbit stood, bent to scoop up his unprotesting master, and gently carried him from the room, as a mother with a precious babe. Sam softly kicked the door shut behind him.

Merry sighed then turned back to Pippin. "Oy, Pip, look at me?"

Pippin looked up, but dropped his eyes immediately. "I'm... I'm sorry, Merry..." his voice was a bare whisper, and Merry had to lean in to catch the words.

A frown marring his forehead, Merry tilted his head. "Sorry for what, Pip? Certainly you didn't ask them to attack you?"

"They..." he shook his head, "No... but they... they said no one would believe me, Merry. That they'd know what an... an..." and Pip broke into fresh tears. "Would know what an unnatural Hobbit I am..."

Merry's eyes widened. "Pip, you are not an unnatural Hobbit! It wasn't your fault those... well... those unnatural people attacked you." He cupped his cousin's face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. It brought to mind that day he'd saved Pip from drowning. Pip had cried, then, too... had reacted as if he were... _wrong_.

Slowly, gently, Merry lifted Pip's face so he could see into his cousin's eyes. "Pip... who told you that you were unnatural? Whoever said it was wrong!"

Pip shook his head. "No, he was right. I am unnatural, Merry, I am! I see that now."

Shaking his head, Merry drew Pippin against his chest, hugging him fiercely. "He was a liar, whoever he was, Pippin. You are the most natural Hobbit I know."

"He was my _father_, Merry!"

Merry stilled. Then he made a noise similar to a canine growling at someone who'd threatened its pups. "I don't care if he's your father or the Mayor. He's a liar, Pip. He's wrong. You aren't unnatural, and you in no way deserved to be attacked like that!"

With a groan, Pip pushed away from the secure embrace of Merry's arms. "No! He was right, Merry." Pip raised a hand to Merry's lips, stilling what he would say next, trembling at the softness... his sudden desire to kiss his cousin senseless. "I didn't ask to be attacked; I'm not silly enough to believe I deserved that, Merry. But my father was right. I'm... not right; there's something wrong with me. But it's something I'll deal with, and you don't have to worry about it... or about..." Pip stopped, dropping his hand from Merry's lips to cover his own face, instead.

He felt Merry tug at his hands and tried to resist. Merry tugged more insistently. "Pip? Oy, Pippin, look at me? Please? Whatever you think is wrong with you, I'm here. I'll help you through it. I'll take care of you, like I always have. Don't you ever forget that, Pippin."

Pip raised his head, shaking it in denial. "No, Merry. You can't fix this. I was born wrong. And you won't want to be near me anymore, either." He had to; had to tell Merry now... so Merry would understand. He didn't want to... Elbereth, but this hurt. He needed Merry now more than he ever had before, but that was the very reason he had to tell his cousin the secret he'd kept hidden for the past years. "I... I like boys, Merry." Then, Pip hung his head, not wanting to see the horror, the disgust... not wanting to see his most cherished Merry pull away from him.

There was a moment of silence while everything seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the outcome of Pip's admission. It didn't have the chance to stretch more than a minute, though. Pippin heard Merry groan, and then felt himself pulled against his cousin's chest once more, a hand tangling gently in his curls in an age-old gesture of comfort.

Pulling away, Pip's eyes welled up. "No, Merry, you didn't hear me right! I said I like _boys_. I mean, not just to be friends with, Merry. I mean, I like boys like other lads like _girls_." But this time, Pippin couldn't draw his gaze from Merry's face. He knew he'd see the understanding, then the horror, but he couldn't help it. He had to see Merry, no matter how horrible it would be.

Merry shook his head, and tugged Pip against himself once more. "I heard you right the first time, Pip, so stop shouting. You'll just get Sam upset, and he's got more than enough worry for Frodo right now. He doesn't need to leave Frodo's bed to come check on us."

Pip was confused. He was expecting Merry to leave, to draw away, but he wasn't. Instead, he was hugging him. He sounded normal, not hateful. He was talking about normal things like Sam helping Frodo, not... not acting like he'd just heard Pip's most horrible, terrible secret. Pippin blinked.

Merry's face hadn't changed, though. It still held that concerned, loving look it had before Pip had spilled his secret. It was still the strong-jawed, broad face of the Hobbit he fell in love with. It was still Merry.

And it was starting to smile softly.

"Pippin, you look so lost and scared. I told you, everything's fine. I'm here now, and nothing bad'll happen to you again, if I can help it." Merry gently lifted Pip's face so he could smile into his friend's eyes. "I'm here... Merry. Your best friend."

He blinked then shook his head. "But Merry... I just told you..."

"Yes, that you like boys. It's okay, Pip, really it is. Is that what's kept you pulling away from me all this time? I thought I'd done something wrong!"

Pip shook his head. "Oh, no, Merry! Not you! You've never been wrong! _I_ have."

With a soft laugh, Merry's face transformed from worried cousin to sunny friend. "Pip, you've never been wrong a day in your life! You're father's a daft old fool." He hugged Pippin to him again, his voice gentle and soothing as he continued to speak. "It's true that most Hobbits wouldn't agree with me, Pip. That most Hobbits would think like your father. And that means you have to be careful that most Hobbits don't find out. But, Pip, there are some of us who feel the same way. And we'll never hurt you because you feel that way."

"Some of... _us_?" Pip drew back once more and frowned up at Merry. "What..."

Merry nodded, smiling still. "Yes, Peregrin Took. I like boys, too. Or, more specifically: I... Love... _You_."

Pip gasped, eyes wide. He shook his head. "You? Love _me_?" It was his fondest wish... and so he must have heard wrong. Merry couldn't have just said what he thought he'd said... could he?

Leaning closer, Merry cupped Pip's face in his hands, smiling at the younger Hobbit. "Yes, Peregrin. I love you. I have ever since I can remember. I was just waiting for you to grow up... hoping that maybe you would some day love me back." With those words, Merry brought his mouth down in a sweet, soft kiss, sealing Pip's mouth with his own.

Pippin moaned, giving in to the sensations that washed over him. He'd dreamed of this moment, but never knew that fire and ice could wash over one all together. Never imagined that he would feel so... complete. Never dared to believe that he could be so loved.

Suddenly, everything was right... even being wrong.

Continued in Chapter Three: No Amount of Wrong


	3. No Amount of Wrong

Title: No Amount of Wrong 

Series: The 'Wrong' Series: 3/ 3

Rating: R: Slash; Angst; Suggested Nonconsensual Sexual Situation, Violence, and Incest: Cousins  
Pairings: Frodo/ Frodo; Merry; Pippin; Sackville-Bagginses/Pippin; suggested Sackville-Bagginses/Frodo

Summary: What happened with Frodo and Sam during the "How Can Wrong Become Right" story?

Notes: I wrote the song sung in this story, and no one can claim it otherwise. THANK YOU to my Beta, Beth. You have helped me where confidence failed.

Feedback: Please? I love comments: samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

* * *

Laughter rang down the lane as the last guests left the party. Frodo smiled and waved. Done. It was over. No more smiling for guests or pretending everything was just perfect. Now, he could relax and be his normal, withdrawn self.

The dark haired Hobbit turned letting his bright green door softly shut behind him, and surveyed the remnants of the birthday party he'd given for his cousin. It had been a wonderful party, and Frodo had enjoyed hosting it. Merry's coming-of-age would be the talk of Hobbiton for some years to come.

Slowly, Frodo walked into his parlor. There were the three remaining guests, invited to spend the night: Sam Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck, and Pippin Took. The three were talking and drinking ale and generally still enjoying Frodo's hospitality to the fullest. They looked so relaxed and happy that Frodo merely slipped into his comfortable chair to join in the general air of contentment.

"Oy, Frodo... have they gone, then?" Merry's voice was a lazy drawl.

Frodo nodded, smiling wider. "They have. I thought they'd never leave. Anyone for more ale?"

"I'll get that, Mister Frodo. You just sit and rest. You've been busy." Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's friend and servant, leapt to his feet. Actually, he more like struggled to his feet out of the comfortable chair. A pleasant smile lit his round face, and he shuffled into the kitchen, ignoring Frodo's weak protests.

Pip stood and moved around the room, restlessly. "What'll we do tonight? We've got hours and hours to play with."

Merry laughed. "And what would we play, Cousin? There're only four of us. Not like there's many games you can play with only four Hobbits and a lot of ale."

"Oh, I don't know. We could see how drunk Sam can get?" But Pip's mind was elsewhere. He'd just spotted a bit of lace and fluff by the door and headed right for it. Smiling, the Hobbit snagged the bonnet and shawl off of the wall hook and nodded. "Or we could all get drunk."

Shaking his head, blond curls bouncing, Merry laughed. "We are drunk, you looby. You've been walking sideways for a good five minutes now!"

Pip threw a grin over his shoulder, then pocketed the bonnet and bundled the shawl as small as he could. He made his way back to his chair and picked up his ale mug once more. "Better walking sideways than sitting sideways, Merry. You're listing worse that old Sandyman's oak tree."

It was that moment in which Sam chose to return with a pitcher of ale and a large plate of biscuits. He poured out for all, sat down, and started munching, happily holding his feet out to the warmth of the toasty fire. Normally, Sam wouldn't feel right sitting down as equals with Frodo and his cousins. True, he'd grown up with them, played with them, commiserated and plotted with them, but, all told, Sam Gamgee was of a lower social order than his three friends. They were gentlehobbits, and he was a gardener's son. For now, however, this one night he was to be equal. Mister Frodo had said so at the beginning of the party.

The four Hobbits ate companionably from Sam's plate for the next few minutes, comparing notes on the party in general and on certain Hobbits in particular. Soon, the ale was almost depleted in all four mugs, and the food was down to crumbs. Sam let out a contented sigh and carefully put the plate on a small table next to him.

Talk continued, and Pippin started to rove the room again. The others didn't pay much attention to the youngest of them, and much drunken laughter was exchanged. Pip stopped roving, right in front of Sam. Putting his cup down on the table, the Hobbit was unaware that it tilted and spilled on the ground. He was too busy grinning in full mischief.

Sam didn't notice. He'd drifted to sleep and was therefore completely oblivious to Pippin Took draping a frilly shawl over his legs. The younger Hobbit stilled, a grin on his face, as Sam moved in his sleep, head turning to the other side. As he didn't awaken, Pip finished what he was doing, placing a frilly woman's bonnet on top of Sam's blond curls.

Pip stood back, quite satisfied. He looked over his shoulder the smile slipping only slightly when he noticed the others had been too busy talking to notice Pip's actions. "Going to get a blanket..." Pip called out happily. Sam was the only one who acknowledged that, by opening his eyes and grunting. The others kept right on talking.

With a sigh Pip wandered off towards the spare rooms looking for a pink frilly blanket.

"...And the look on his face! I didn't think I could keep from laughing, I really didn't, Frodo..."

Frodo nodded, smiling, listening to Merry's chatter. It felt good, being right here, right now. He sipped the rest of his ale, frowned at the mug, then sighed and sprawled in his chair. He felt warm and full; he'd get more ale in a moment. For now, he wanted to enjoy the lazy moment, celebrating the end of Merry's coming-of-age.

"Oy! Where's Pip, then?"

Merry's voice broke through Frodo's haze, and he blinked over at Merry. Looking around, puzzled, he answered slowly, "Don't know, Merry... was here just a moment ago." He ran a hand through his black curls, mussing them more than they had been.

Sam stirred himself enough to comment. "Went for a blanket to fight the chill."

Frodo looked over at Sam. Surprised, he couldn't help but grin. The sight of that frilly bit of lace on his chubby friend's head was absurd. Added to that was a lacey shawl. Sam looked just like a little old woman hunched by a winter's fire. A giggle burst forth and Frodo immediately felt bad for laughing at Sam... but he just looked so funny!

He felt relieved and let himself laugh harder when Sam and Merry joined in the merriment.

Merry was snorting and panting, trying to catch his breath. "Ah... ah... ah... Oh, Pip would love this."

"What are we laughing at?" Sam chortled, enjoying a good joke, but wanting to understand the joke just the same. He had no clue what he looked like, as he had been asleep when Pippin had dolled him up.

Frodo laughed harder, unable to contain himself. He held out a hand, shaking and giggling. Before he could answer Sam, however, Merry jumped in.

"I'm going to get Pip... Sam, don't you move a whisker... this is just too funny." Then, Merry pulled himself up from his chair. He took another look at Sam and shook his head, guffawing as he stumbled towards the halls.

Frodo rose and patted Sam on the shoulder. He called after Merry, "If he wants a blanket, he'll be in one of the bedrooms. I'll help." Then the owner of Bag End and his Brandybuck cousin threw an arm around each other's shoulder and merrily made their way down the hall towards the bedrooms. They were accompanied by the occasional singsong of Merry calling "Pippin, Oy, Pippin Took, where be you, you scamp?"

Sam settled down, chuckling still. Whatever had set those two off was sure to be good. Mister Frodo would tell him in due time. Probably when Mister Pippin was with them again. And the four friends would all have a good laugh at whatever the joke was.

Normally Sam would have long ago been in bed, and not even dreamed of joining into the personal party of his friends. Now, with Frodo's invitation, Sam let himself dream. He closed his eyes and thought of more possible parties where he was allowed to join the other special guests. Instead of looking in through a window, Sam would be part of the group... one of the crowd... accepted.

"Now, Gamgee, don't you be getting thoughts above yourself. Mister Frodo invited you this time, but that don't mean you'll get another invite at all. One special party does not a gentlehobbit make." Sam sighed, having talked himself back out of his daydreams. A smile couldn't stay from his face, though, and the sigh sounded again, more contentment than regret. "Yes, but at least there's this one party to enjoy."

Looking around, Sam noted the mess. Here was something he could do while the others looked for Pip. He could clean up for Mister Frodo. The sturdy built Hobbit stood up, then frowned as something fell to the ground. He stooped and retrieved a lacey shawl. It suddenly hit him what had been so funny to the other two. Sam reached up. Sure enough, his hand met with frills. With a slight frown, he pulled the bonnet off and stared at it.

Sam was a good-natured Hobbit at the best of times. He was also quite aware of his status in Hobbiton and among his friends. Drunk and feeling his place from he recent self-talk Sam started feeling bad. Had they done this on purpose? He tried to think back, recall what had happened, but it was a blank. So, he thought about their reactions to his stupid appearance.

Before he could puzzle out if it had been a deliberate prank to make him look a fool, an eerie keen broke through the still air.

Head snapping up, Sam froze at the sound. What in the Shire was that? It sounded like something had crawled out of Hell and was trying to call its friends to follow. He started shaking. True, Sam was often brave, without even thinking on it, but he was, after all, just a small Hobbit without weapon or fighting skill. That sound sent a chill right to his heart.

"Now, Samwise, you just calm yourself down. Mister Frodo and the others are out there, and they'll be needing your help, just see if they don't. So, use the brains you've got and figure this out." He started moving towards the sound, his feet dragging just a bit, as he puzzled what could have crawled into Frodo's back bedrooms.

Suddenly, it hit him. Pippin and Merry were playing a joke on good old, gullible Samwise! They were in the back rooms trying to scare him, make him run down there in the bonnet and shawl, maybe. Well, he wasn't falling for it. He'd just go down there and laugh in their faces, because good old gullible Samwise had figured them out.

Thus, straightening his vest and running a steady hand through his curls, Sam began to walk with a sure, quiet step towards that eerie keen. It changed to a blood-curdling scream. One of such horror and pain, Sam felt his insides twist. He nearly passed out in shock, and he just knew that one of the others were in trouble. That was no prank yell.

Sam tore down the hall, not caring how much noise he made, intent on protecting his friends. He made it to the fourth bedroom, where he saw the small, dark haired figure crumpled in the doorway, screaming. Elbereth! It was Mister Frodo! And Merry was holding him by the arms.

Skidding to a halt, sliding into a sitting position as he reached for his master, Sam gave a mighty shove to the Brandybuck, tossing a glare at him. "What have you done to Mister Frodo?" He was livid that Merry and Pip should pull a prank that would so scare or hurt Frodo.

"I've done nothing, Samwise Gamgee! He was passed out when I came in, and when he woke he started fighting and screaming! I wouldn't hurt Frodo, and you know it Sam Gamgee!"

Sam was too worried to pay attention to Merry's words. He was attempting to pull Frodo into his arms, making soothing noises, but suddenly Frodo went wild. He was clawing and scratching and biting, trying to get away. And all the while that awful hair-raising screaming came from his throat.

How was he going to calm Frodo? Sam tried desperately to capture the smaller Hobbit's hands, so he wouldn't hurt himself or anyone else. When his oldest sister'd had a crying fit, his mother had been the one to calm her. How? Then, Sam remembered. He took a breath and raised his hand.

The sound of flesh striking flesh reverberated around the room, and Sam felt instant guilt well up. Frodo's delicate skin was already starting to swell and darken. On the plus side, if it could be called that, the screams had stopped. Unfortunately, they were replaced by that eerie keening once more. Sam now knew it hadn't been a prank on him... it had been Frodo keening in mortal fear of something that Sam couldn't perceive.

Frodo started rocking, curling into a ball, tears streaming down his cheeks. With a sob of his own, Sam pulled his master into his arms. He recalled Merry's defense and answered him. "Well, something's got him worked up, Mister Merry!" He looked up and horror froze his features. "Elbereth! What happened to you, Mister Pippin?"

Pippin had angry welts on his wrists and ankles, leather burns up both legs, and bruising around his throat. His face looked like it'd been hit several times. He had no clothing on; the remains were strewn on the floor in tatters. On the bed where he perched were leather straps tied to the headboard or lying about loose.

Pippin covered his face, breaking down into sobs, his small body shaking so much it seemed he'd break apart. He wouldn't talk. Instead, little whimpering noises sounded from the tiny Hobbit, and Sam's anger fled instantly. Someone else had hurt Pip and Frodo, and Merry must have saved them both.

Guilt washed over Sam, threatening to drown him, and he hugged Frodo closer. He ignored the other two Hobbits by the bed to concentrate on his master. "Mister Frodo... your Sam's here now. Talk to me, Mister Frodo, please?" He rocked and rocked, listening to that awful keening, wondering how he could make things right again.

Sam felt fear start to build as he realized he couldn't help Frodo. He looked up at Merry, a pleading in his sorrowful eyes. "I can't calm him, Mister Merry. He won't calm down..." He ran a hand through Frodo's curls, feeling the sweat dampening them.

A scared, small voice sobbed, "It was them... they did it to him, too..." Pip glanced over at Frodo and Sam then burrowed back into Merry.

Merry gently lifted Pip's chin with one strong hand. "Who did this to Frodo, Pip?"

"The Sa... Sa... Sackville... Bagginses, Merry. They did it. They said they'd done it to Frodo, too." Pip buried his face once more into Merry's shoulder and shuddered. Merry's arms tightened supportively.

Sam tried to register what the younger Hobbit meant. The Sackville-Baggins had stripped Pippin and tied... and... no! His green-gray eyes opened wide in horror and he shook his head slightly. "What? They trussed Mister Pippin... and Mister Frodo... up like a goose? But why?" His face paled, then flushed.

Merry's voice was gentle, yet firm, as he stated, "there are some, Samwise, who enjoy hurting others. It makes them feel good."

Sam shook his head, not comprehending how hurting someone could feel good. "If you say so, Mister Merry. But it don't make no sense, if you know what I mean. Hurting people's never been something I could fathom. I'm taking Mister Frodo to his own room. He needs rest."

He bent and gently, so gently, scooped Frodo into his sturdy arms. Slowly, Sam got to his feet, wavering only slightly under his precious bundle. Frodo didn't protest, didn't even move; he simply continued to keen. This disturbed Sam deeply.

He threw one last glance over his shoulder, where Merry was trying to comfort Pippin. They didn't need his help. Frodo did. Thus, he quietly left the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

The halls didn't feel safe any more. Expecting someone to jump out at any turn, Sam was shaking himself by the time he reached the Master bedroom. He had to fumble blindly for the door, barely able to free his hand from his burden. Finally, the Bag End Gardener got the door open and peeked over the threshold.

"Here now, Mister Frodo. We're in your room, now. You'll be safe here, see if you aren't." Sam moved towards the bed, hesitated, and then sighed. He felt like he was trespassing in this beautiful, old room. He'd never been in here before in his whole employment for Mister Bilbo then Mister Frodo. And here he was, walking in like he owned the place. But... he was doing this for Frodo. Frodo needed safe and familiar.

Taking his courage in his hands, Sam hardened his resolve and moved towards the bed once more. "Mister Frodo, I'm going to tuck you into bed, sir..."

He was answered with a horrendous shriek of fear. Frodo tried to claw his way away from Sam, who had all he could do to hold the smaller Hobbit still so he wouldn't hurt himself. Apparently, the bed was a bad idea; it scared Frodo.

_Stupid, Gamgee... very stupid. Of course he's afraid. If what Mister Pip said is true, he'll not want to be... there for some while._ He loosened his hold on Frodo, without putting him down, and raised his voice. "Mister Frodo, we'll just sit down, then, okay? Come along, let's go into the parlor by the fire."

Frodo must have been hearing on some level, for the words _parlor_ and _fire_ broke through his fear. He started calming, going back to the keening. His hands inadvertently scraped over Sam's neck as he clenched his servant's vest and shirt.

Sam nodded ignoring the pain, moved out the door with his now quieter burden, and made his slow way down the hall. He purposely used a different route, not wanting Frodo to pass the other room and maybe go off again. The fire was still burning in the parlor, the remnants of the party still scattered around. It felt... safe in there, actually, and Sam felt his own muscles relax just a bit.

He moved over to the big chair Frodo favored. Sam had always fancied that the chair still smelled of Bilbo, even after all these years without him. He hesitated only briefly at the unconventionality of sitting in the master's chair, then pushed modesty and guilt away. Frodo needed him. Sam sat in the chair, adjusting Frodo on his lap for balance and comfort.

"Now, see, Mister Frodo? Isn't this better? Out here by the fire, like. We'll just sit here, and you won't have to do nothing but rest. I'll even clean up the party later. You just rest, Mister Frodo..."

Though the chair was not of the rocking variety, Sam had managed to get his body rocking just enough to feel the movement. Frodo seemed to respond favorably by quieting further. True, the keening hadn't ended yet, and Sam feared for Frodo's throat on that count, but it was quieter, less eerie and more pathetic.

Sam started stroking Frodo's hair.

He hadn't thought about his actions, just did what felt right. When he was small, his mum would always pet his hair and rock him, and so Sam instinctively mimicked those moments. Soon, he fell into another habit of his mum's: he started singing softly in a low, steady tenor.

It was a soft, sad song. One he'd made up, or heard in a dream, or pulled from a forgotten memory. But it was a soothing song, even if bitter sweet, and it steadied Sam's nerves a bit.

_Why do you turn your back to me?  
And why has your smile gone away?  
What then has occurred  
In your peaceful world  
To sadden your once happy day?_

Such a sweet throat should not be rent  
With rasping sobs or wrenching tears.  
Your life was so full:  
The songs gay and true.  
So why did your joys turn to fears?

Who has broken that heart of yours?  
Why sing so sad of tomorrow?  
Was the horror death?  
A parting of friends?  
What causes a Hobbit's sorrow? 

Sam had been unaware that Frodo's keen had completely stopped somewhere in the middle of the song. He finished on a long, sad note then blinked. Something was different... Sam looked down at the still Hobbit in his lap and found himself looking into huge, tear-washed blue eyes. Relief poured out of him in waves.

"Mister Frodo..."

Frodo reached up and tangled his hands in Sam's collar, then tugged. Sam leaned forward, uncertain what Frodo needed. His face was within a breath when Frodo's lovely eyes closed and his lips met Sam's in a soft, tentative kiss.

Sam was too stunned to do anything but sit and let Frodo kiss him. Then, it was over. As quickly as it had begun it was a memory, a memory that confused Sam, who flushed in embarrassment.

Frodo raised a shaking hand to trace Sam's face, trail along his cheek, caress his chin. "Sam..." his voice was breathless, needy.

Leaning closer, Sam met Frodo's eyes. It had been a kiss of gratitude, after all, for helping his master overcome that terrible fright. It didn't mean anything... well... unnatural. But... if it didn't mean anything like _that_, why did Frodo seem so intent? And why did he feel so sad?

_Because, Samwise you fool, he's still shook up,_ Sam berated himself. _And he certainly doesn't need you mistaking a gesture of thanks. He's had a bad fright with Mister Pippin's attack, and he won't be thanking you to attack next._

But Sam's self-recrimination flew out the window when Frodo tugged him into another, lingering kiss.

It took several minutes before Sam had the sense to pull back, heart hammering. "Mister Frodo?"

Frodo's dazed eyes suddenly snapped back to awareness, and he flushed brightly. "Sam... ah... I..." He pushed himself to a sitting position and clambered off Sam's broad lap. "I... thank you for... helping me. I just went a bit... wonky when I saw Pip... Uh..."

_Right, we ignore the kiss and get to the problem, Samwise,_ young Gamgee instructed himself. He stood up, moving away from Frodo's chair, but not towards his master. "What happened, Mister Frodo? Why'd you start... keening like that?"

A shudder ran through Frodo's thin frame and he wrapped his arms around himself, as if trying to keep in heat. "It... scared me... I... remember..." Then he was shaking his head, eyes wide, and backing up towards his chair. "It was nothing, Sam... nothing..."

Sam wasn't falling for that. He knew something was horribly wrong, and he meant to fix it. "Mister Pippin said you'd been tied up by them." He didn't mention Lobelia and Otho's names. He didn't need to; Frodo paled in understanding just the same.

Frodo's mouth opened, shut, opened once more. As he worked his mouth silently, trying to form words, he sank into the chair. Finally, his eyes tearing up again, he dropped his head into his hands. "They did... When I lived with them... before Bilbo took me in."

With a cry, Sam slid down to Frodo's feet. "Why, Mister Frodo? Why would anyone want to do that? You weren't more than a child!" His hand went to Frodo's knee absently.

Hesitantly, Frodo reached out and put his hand on Sam's head, feeling the curls tangle around his fingers. "I don't know, Sam. They... they said it was because I needed..." he broke off again, shaking his head.

"A child don't need to be trussed up, Mister Frodo. And he certainly don't need to be tied nude to a bed! They're sick Hobbits. They shouldn't be in the Shire!"

Frodo laughed bitterly, softly. "Ah, Sam... Hobbits say that about me all the time."

Sam's head shot up, eyes blazing. "No, Mister Frodo. They say how you're odd with your reading and being alone and all, if you know what I mean. But I never heard them say you don't belong in the Shire. And I know that you've _never_ hurt a child, Mister Frodo." He rose onto his knees, hands set solidly on Frodo's knees now, trying to get Frodo to see his point. "You'd never truss a babe up and torment it!"

"My faithful Sam," Frodo sighed, the barest of bitter smiles coming to his face, "how would I live without you?"

"You won't live without me, Mister Frodo. I'll be here as long as you need me... as long as you want me, sir."

Frodo studied Sam's familiar, round features, his soulful eyes, his determinedly set mouth. Time seemed to stand still as the two watched each other, silent and waiting. It was as if they were waiting for something, something unclear but there if they could only reach out and grasp it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Frodo leaned down. He let his eyes drift shut and pressed his mouth to Sam's again. The kiss was brief, only a heartbeat, and it was over. "Ah... Sam... you are so good to me. I'm not the Hobbit you think I am, my dear Sam." His eyes opened once more. "They were right, you know, Sam. I am odd and shouldn't be around normal Hobbits."

The blood was singing through Sam's veins. That kiss hadn't been a thank you kiss. Sam knew. That had been... something else entirely. Though the shy Hobbit had little experience with kisses and cuddles, his heart still recognized that deeper emotion. It felt like something tugged on that organ, and Sam had to gasp for air in shock.

"Frodo?"

"Yes, Sam... I am trying to seduce you. See? I am a most odd Hobbit. Please, Sam, leave now. If you stay, I'll be too tempted to take you to bed." Frodo's blue eyes looked dark and deep, fathomless in the firelight.

Another long moment passed as the two stared at each other. A soft voice broke the stillness, a decision made.

"I don't think I'll be leaving, Mister Frodo. I think you need me to stay."

"Ah, Sam..." Frodo closed his eyes, moaning out, "I tell you, Sam, you don't want to be here. I mean to do... unnatural things to you, Sam. Things male Hobbits certainly shouldn't be doing together..."

Sam watched him for a moment more. Then, he leaned up and pressed his lips to Frodo's, hesitant and tender. He had no real experience, and it showed in his trembling mouth and shaking hands. But his own desire flared up, and that, too, showed in the kiss.

Frodo groaned again and slid his hands into Sam's hair, pulling him closer. He slanted his mouth against Sam's, deepening the kiss and running his hands caressingly through the thick curls. It was a long moment before he broke the kiss himself.

"Sam... my beautiful Sam... you have no idea what will happen, do you? You have no idea what I want..."

Sam pulled him down into another kiss. Speaking against Frodo's soft lips, Sam breathed, "Yes, Mister Frodo. I know what you want. I want this, too. Please don't send me away?"

Letting his hands drop from Sam's hair, Frodo sighed. "Never... I couldn't send you away if I wanted to. And, Sam, my dear... I certainly _don't_ want to send you away." He slid from the chair then, landing on his knees in front of Sam.

Without conscious thought, more kisses followed. Their hands started a clumsy, slow, nervous exploration of each other's body. Vests and shirts were undone, and then discarded. And all the while, those sweet, sweet kisses...

It was with difficulty that Sam pulled away from Frodo. The other Hobbit was making his head spin. What was this all about? Was he merely responding to Frodo's need? His vulnerability? Or, was there something more, something deeper? He wasn't sure, and he so wanted it to be. Sam wanted this to be right for Frodo.

And while the younger Hobbit hesitated, the sounds of two Hobbits, talking softly, ventured down to the couple by the fire. Frodo and Sam reluctantly pulled back further, looking over as Merry and Pip made an appearance. Pip was dressed in some of Frodo's clothes, but the bruises on his face bespoke his ordeal.

Merry's eyes roved from Frodo to Sam, both still on the floor without shirts, even if they had a good two feet between them now. He gently tugged a nervous Pippin forward by the hand, and slid his arm around his cousin's waist. Pip opened his mouth to say something, but Merry laid a finger across his friend's lips.

"We need to discuss what happened, Frodo. Now. This is serious."

Frodo looked to Sam, regret in his eyes. This may have been the one and only chance he'd have to wake with Sam in his arms, in his bed, and it was gone. He'd never get another chance if Sam even thought twice about what happened. But... as he looked over... Frodo's breath caught.

Sam was smiling at him, eyes soft. He certainly wasn't going to allow this to end without knowing if an ending was what Frodo wanted. Gently, Sam reached out and clasped Frodo's hand. "Yes, Mister Frodo, let's talk. We need to make sure they don't hurt anyone else."

Frodo drew his eyes from Sam to look at Merry and Pippin. It was the agony and shame in Pip's eyes that decided him. "Yes. Let's stop the Sackville-Bagginses before anyone else gets attacked." He reached out and took Pip's hand, and his cousin smiled once more.

The four friends went back to talking, even if the conversation wasn't as jolly as it had been an hour ago. The comradeship, however, was stronger than ever. Samwise Gamgee, Frodo Baggins, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took had that night forged a bond that no amount of wrong could break.

They had each other.


End file.
